For The First Time
by JxTina
Summary: A chance encounter in a gas station leads to many surprising and unexpected firsts. DeanAmbrose/OC Prequel to Simple Things and Frisk Me. RATED M FOR A REASON!


*Gasp* what's this? A Rollins _and_ an Ambrose story in a matter of days?! Guess that's what happens when I take a long weekend...

After much deliberation, I've decided to expand my little Ambrose/mystery girl series. And she's no longer mystery - she has a name now! So we're going back to the start with this one. And I have loosely tied it into the other series with a mention of a familiar face.

 **WARNING:** Slow-build. Oh, man it's slow. But the results are worth it, I hope (smut lies ahead, don't you fret)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I only own... Her.

Enjoy x

* * *

I scuff my foot on the floor, listening how my sneaker squeaks on the plastic matting. I drum my fingers impatiently on the energy drink can in my hand, toss the pack of chips in the other. I exhale loudly as the lady at the counter chit-chatters to no-one in particular as she pulls coin after coin from her wallet to pay.

I should have just got on the road, pulled over at the next gas station for cigarettes rather than here in the middle of town. Rookie mistake. I had two left, enough to see me through the next hour or so. But too late now – can't exactly return half a tank of gas. I roll my head back and let out a low groan as the lady goes back into her purse to pull out more loose change. There's a muffled giggle behind me and I turn to look over my shoulder. Deep brown eyes meet mine, swimming in mirth as white teeth pinch a pink bottom lip in attempt to stifle a second giggle. I roll my eyes, acknowledging both of our frustrations at the wait.

"How much is that?" the lady peers up at the spotty cashier, hand still in her purse.

"That makes it twelve, ma'am."

"And just another twenty to go," a voice murmurs behind me.

Now it's my turn to bite back a chuckle as I glance over my shoulder once again. She raises an eyebrow in response.

"Am I right or am I right?" she adds with a smile.

"Damn right," I agree.

"Not like people got to get to work or anything."

"Sure."

"I should've just waited, but now I got this," she raises her takeaway coffee cup. "And I've already drank half of it waiting here."

I let my chuckle slide from my mouth and she smiles appreciatively. Glancing back at the counter, I can see that even the cashier is slowly losing his patience. Ah, fuck it.

Stepping forward, I dump my purchases on the counter and retrieve my wallet from my back pocket.

"How much?" I ask the cashier, nodding at the lady beside me, who is still obliviously counting out coins. He stares at me dumbly. "How much left to pay?" I prompt.

"Uh, twenty-three."

I count out the notes and shove them into his hand.

"Oh, how very kind of you. Let me-" the lady reaches back into her purse.

"No worries, I got it." I flash her my best smile. "Just doing my good deed for the day."

She slowly packs away a handful of change, still muttering her thanks as she moves away towards the exit.

"Just these?" the cashier grunts.

"Yes. No, wait." I turn back to dark-eyed, pink-lipped woman. "Serve her first, she's running late."

Her head snaps up. "You sure?"

"Go ahead," I gesture. "I'm feeling extra generous," I add with a wink.

As she places her coffee on the counter and rattles off the pump number, my eyes instinctively drag over her body. I note the black jeans, that stop just shy of her ankles, the white low-top Chuck Taylors. Her fingers, which fumble with her purse, are complete with perfectly manicured nails, square and black. Handing over a couple of notes, she raises the same hand and runs it through her short blonde hair, turning to offer me a small smile. I return the gesture, my eyes sliding down from her face to take in her pale blue button-down is well, not completely buttoned, revealing a haphazard cluster of necklaces from her throat down to where the first button is fastened, not allowing me any peek at what's beneath. Not that I need to. I can already tell from her slight frame that she is perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body.

That and the fact that my history has provided me with enough evidence to back up my findings. What can I say? I've had my fair share of women, sizes and types. I practically pride myself on being able to tell without even touching if a woman's breasts are real or fake. It's a talent that's taken a number of years to nail and now that I have, I use it at every given opportunity. Mainly to score drinks off the rest of the guys on the roster.

The cashier hands over blondie's change, which she stuffs into her purse with thanks.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," she says to me as she picks up her coffee.

"No problem." I shove my purchases towards the cashier, grunting out my cigarette request as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as blondie heads for the door, pushing it open with her hip and giving me ample opportunity to check out her ass in the process.

With my wallet significantly lighter, I make my way to the door, nudging it open with my shoulder, eyes on the ground.

"Watch it!"

I glance up with a frown and come face to face with blondie once again, her coffee cup close to capsizing in her hand as she takes a careful side-step out of my way.

"Shit, sorry," I mutter.

"No harm done," she smiles.

"You forget something?" I ask and then inwardly groan. Why'd you ask that, dumbass?

"My boss just text his coffee order. Turns out the machine at work is busted and he has perfect timing..." she trails off. "Here's hoping there's not another coin-payer in the line."

"I think you're in the clear."

"That was a sweet thing you did."

I shrug. "I needed to get on the road, did what I had to do."

"And letting me go in front. You didn't have to do that."

I shrug again. "Like I said, no problem."

She pauses. "I feel like I should say thank you properly." I raise an eyebrow and watch as her cheeks flush a faint pink. "I mean, y'know, a thank you coffee or something."

I shift my purchases into one hand and reach for my car keys. "There's no need, honestly. And I'm leaving town for a week or so."

"I can owe you."

I pause, chewing my lip. "Okay then."

She grins. "Why don't I give you my number and you can drop me a text when you're back in town?"

It's only as I'm reaching for my phone that I realise that it's normally the other way around. I'm normally the one making the request, making sure I'm the one in control. And sure, she's giving me her number still, I feel like I'm on the back-foot. Although maybe that's because what's on offer isn't usually just a thank you drink. It's a booty call drink just waiting to happen. It's a 'when I'm town and horny' drink.

She taps her number in quickly and hands it back to me, her name and number already saved.

"Y'know, I always collect on a promise, Rebecca." The line rolls off my tongue just as it's done a thousand times before.

"I'm sure you do, Dean."

"How-" I start, my mouth dropping open as she says my name.

"A message popped up as I was typing my number. Looks like your friend wants to know if you're on your way."

I thumb my phone and notice the message from Roman. Wow, she's smooth. I look back up at her and give her a crooked smile. Maybe I will take her up on that drink after all.

* * *

I thought that she might tumble from my mind the second I hit the freeway. I thought that I'd get to the arena and she'd be a distant memory. I thought that when I looked my phone later that night, I'd puzzle over who the hell Rebecca even was.

Yeah, none of that happened.

Being alone with my thoughts for a couple of hours isn't anything new. But I seemingly wasn't alone that day. There was something about her, something that bugged me. She had a familiar confidence about her that was unsettling. Not in a bad way, but it was unsettling nonetheless. I kind of liked that about her. Within a few minutes, she'd made an impact and there was something be said for that. I liked her sass, but also the way she duly blushed when I silently insinuated something a little less innocent. There was something intriguing about the two opposite reactions and I wanted to find out more.

Although that was easier said than done. Even now, as I haul my ass home after a week on the road, I'm debating whether texting her is the right thing to do. There is no fucking way I'm turning this into something its not – whether that's by my own doing or hers. She's not like any of the other chicks I'd usually take out and that leaves me wary. I wouldn't say I have a type, but others would surely disagree. I like to know what I'm getting into and I like my women to know that too. And most do. They appreciate the fact that I haven't got time to dedicate solely to them, that the chances are that we'll drink and fuck and then I'll be gone. If they're especially _unique_ , shall we say, then perhaps I'll give them a call when I'm back in the same city.

I make no qualms about who I am. I am more than happy with my lot in life. I've worked damn hard to be here and I'm going to enjoy the perks that come with this job, because one day I might lose it all and I want to make damn sure I've spent the time I've had well. If that means spending the rest of my life in bars, hooking up with girls that only want one thing, then so be it. I am completely fine with that. In fact, I am more than fine with that.

Sure, there's an occasional moment of weakness. Like when Roman looks like he slept with a damn coat hanger in his mouth, and I know damn well that Lex has just text something particularly gushing and a part of me wonders what that might feel like. And then I remember that I'm kind of allergic to anything too sickeningly cute and that fleeting feeling disappears back where it belongs. At the back of my mind, buried under a mountain of other crap that floats around my head on a daily basis.

I slow to a stop at a junction, drumming my fingers on the wheel as I wait for the light to turn green. I blink and Rebecca clouds my vision once again. Christ.

I doubt she's the kind of girl to wait by the phone. Which is good, because she'd have been waiting a hell of long time for my message. And I doubt she's the kind of girl that would read into something beyond the actual words. Which is good, because I'm not one to play any kind of games or get sucked into someone else's.

Perhaps if that's how she is, then maybe one drink won't do any harm. One drink and a good time. Okay, maybe more than one drink, but one night for sure. One night and then we call it quits. One night and that's it.

I nod in agreement with my mind as the lights turn green and I move forward again. But even with my mind made up, I still can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something, that there's something right in front of me, just begging to be noticed and pondered over.

It was like she stole a page out of my own damn playbook. At the time I thought it was a pretty slick move. But now, days later, I realise it's something I might have done myself at one time or another. Which means one of two things. Either I'm being well and truly taken for a ride. Or I've finally met my match.

* * *

My text was short and to the point.

 _If that drink's still on offer, let me know. I'm around till Saturday. Dean._

Her response, half hour later, was even shorter and way more direct.

 _Still on offer. Friday, 8pm? R._

When she sent me her address after I agreed, I realised that her building was only a few blocks from a fairly average, yet still decent bar. One that serves cold beer, has an excellent jukebox and where the bar staff leave the patrons to occupy themselves.

But as I watch her walk down the final steps from her building to the side walk, I feel like I've made a terrible mistake. Her heels click on the concrete steps, her dark blue dress clinging to her thighs. She did say drink, right? Not dinner, not something else that would require being dressed up the fucking nines.

"Hey," she smiles, her eyes darting from my face down to my shirt, black jeans and boots. "Sorry, I know I'm a bit over-dressed for a drink, but there was this work thing and I didn't have enough time to change."

"I can wait," I start to say, but she cuts me off.

"No, it's fine." She runs a hand through her hair and notice the change of colour on her nails, from black to deep red. A simple bracelet slides along her wrist as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

We start walking and she easily falls into same rhythm as me.

"So, do you go out of town often?" she asks after a few quiet seconds.

"Yeah, it's for my job. It's a running joke that we're actually paid to travel rather than do our actual jobs."

"Which is what?"

I cast her a sideways look and she meets my gaze with a questioning look. This is new. Although I guess it doesn't say much of the bars I usually frequent, where every single woman is looking to hook up with a wrestler and know more about us than we do ourselves. "I wrestle."

"Like WWE?"

"The one and only."

"Must be pretty cool."

"It has its perks," I agree.

"You get to see much of the cities you travel to?"

"Occasionally," I concede, politely omitting the fact that the time that could be spent sight-seeing is usually spent recovering from the previous night before hitting the gym.

"I travel with my boss sometimes, but I usually only get to the see whatever city it is during cab rides."

"What do you do?" I ask, remembering her additional coffee run at the gas station.

"Personal assistant for one of the bosses at these big hotel groups. It's cool, they're pretty good to me, even if it does come with crazy hours sometimes. I guess you can relate."

"Sure," I nod as we come to standstill outside the bar. "Here okay?"

She looks up at the worn exterior. "I could definitely do with a cold one after this week."

She really is my kinda girl.

* * *

I lean against the edge of my table, watching Rebecca as she leans across the pool table to take her short. Or rather, I lean against the edge of the table, trying to hold it together as Rebecca leans across the table to take her shot, her ass wiggling in front of me, her dress inching steadily up as she leans forward a little more.

The sound of the white hitting the striped ball brings me back to my senses, but only just. Because she's now making her way back to me, fingers curling around the cue whilst the other hand pumps the air in triumph of her shot. And then she's reaching for her beer, lips pressed to the opening as she knocks back a mouthful.

This is not how this was supposed to go down. I am enjoying this way too much. I eye the clock above the bar for what must be the tenth time in as many minutes. How have we been hear for two hours already? I was right in saying that one drink was never going to the limit. We're at least three beers deep each, having migrated from a booth to the pool table at the earliest opportunity. On Rebecca's request surprisingly.

I get the feeling that she can make a good time happen, no matter where. Not out of loudness or over-eagerness, just because... Well, she just seems to be up for anything. I'm pretty sure if I had taken her for dinner or to somewhere slightly fancier, she'd have been equally as enthusiastic. The point is, that it feels genuine, not that she's just trying to make the best of a bad situation. To be honest, I wouldn't have blamed her if she was. I'm still kicking myself for my earlier fuck up, although less so now I've had plenty of opportunity to check out her ass and decide that if the opportunity arises, I wouldn't mind coping a feel.

I shake my head as I move towards the pool table to take my shot. There won't be an opportunity. There shouldn't be an opportunity. As much as I'm enjoying this evening, there is no way this is going any further than that. I desperately try to repeat the mantra as I line up my shot and then promptly miss.

"Shit."

"Don't tell me you're a sore loser," Rebecca grins as I step back to the table and pick up my beer.

"I can not like losing, but not be a sore loser," I retort.

"Don't tell me you're doing it on purpose to make me look good," she teases as she hops down from the bar stool.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need any help to make you look good. You're wiping the floor with me." I gesture at the two remaining striped balls, compared to my four solid colours.

"I only bring my A-game," she replies with a chuckle. "Maybe you should too next time?"

I can't help but laugh in response. "You might regret it when I kick your ass."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

She pots her remaining balls in quick succession, leaving me to shake my head at my complete and utter defeat.

"Another?" she gestures to our almost empty bottles. "I'll get them this time."

I nod, but reach for my wallet anyway. She rolls her eyes and darts to the bar before I can even offer to pay. I let her go, finishing my beer whilst I wait.

Her hint at a next time makes me think. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to see her again. If tonight is anything to go by, she's a good laugh and it's been a while since I've hung out with a woman who wasn't just concerned on getting wasted and getting laid, who could take a joke and make me laugh at the same time. Fuck, when did I become so indecisive? I'm usually a straight shooting guy, I know what I want, I go for it. Job done. Tonight, I'm all over the fucking place. My mind is ablaze with a hundred different thoughts about how to wrap tonight up or how to push for a few more hour without using the usual and most obvious technique. Or maybe I should. Shit.

Rebecca returns with two beers and slides one towards me before hopping back onto the bar stool. She's quiet for a moment, taking a long drink, running a hand through her hair as she stares at nothing in particular. I drag my hand over my face, watching her brow furrow for a second and then right itself as she turns her gaze back to me.

"So is this a regular haunt of yours?"

"One of them," I nod.

"I guess on your days off, you just wanna chill out."

"Sure."

"No girlfriend?"

I raise an eyebrow. "No. Why?"

She shrugs. "Just wondered. I didn't want to step on any toes."

"You're not."

"Good."

Another quiet pause.

"If..." she starts and then stops.

"If..." I repeat, letting the word hang in the air, prompting her to continue.

"If you ever wanted to hang out again. On your days off. I'd be up for that."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I get if you don't want to."

I frown. "Why'd you say that?"

She holds my gaze for a moment and then looks away. "My number must be one of a few hundred on that phone of yours."

Wow, straight to the point. "It might be, but that doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't?"

"No. I can't actually remember enjoying a night out like this in a long time," I tell her, watching as a small glimmer of hope whistles through her eyes. "You're fun to hang out with."

"Thanks," she gives me a small smile, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Likewise."

"I'm back in a couple of weeks," I say, my mouth ahead of my brain. "We could do this again. Only properly. Somewhere with actual food?"

She laughs. "Sounds good."

Half hour later, we're heading back to her apartment. Only I know that this isn't going to end the usual way. Half of me is tempted to ask, just to see, just to test the waters. But the other half, my slightly more sensible side, figures that if she wanted that, she'd have made a move. They always do.

"This is me," she murmurs quietly as we reach her building. "Thanks for the beer. And the pool win."

"No problem. I guess I'll text when I'm back in town."

"I look forward to it." She stands still for a second, her fingers toying with her keys. And then her hand is on my shoulder, her lips brushing against my cheek. I breathe in her perfume, a hint of spice on her breath from the chips at the bar. Her fingers slide from my shoulder to my forearm, offering a small squeeze. "Safe travels."

I almost say "you too", but stop myself before the stupidity of it falls from my lips. I stand there, almost frozen as she clicks her way up the steps and offers me a small wave as she opens and closes the door.

Now what?

Glancing at my watch, it's barely eleven. Usually I'm just getting started, especially as I don't need to leave for the airport until noon tomorrow. But just as I start to walk, I stop and turn. Heading away from the bar at the end of the street and instead turning back towards my apartment. I pass what feels like a dozen bars on the way home, ignoring the smell, the noise, the women. I side-step every single whiff of temptation, until I'm stood in front of my own building, wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

"What the hell, why would you do that?"

"I needed the money. Plus at the time, I was so thrilled just to be given a chance, I'd have done anything," I explain, although her wrinkled up nose suggests that my justification does little answer her question of why I'd willingly throw my body around a ring surrounded in barbed wire.

"You don't do that now though?"

I chuckle. "No way. Way too many forms to complete."

She gives me a wry smile. "You're crazy."

"Believe what you will, Rebecca."

"Becca's fine, y'know." Her arm brushes against mine as we move past a late-night hot dog stand and its line of punters.

It's been two weeks since I was last home, yet the first thing on my list was to text Rebecca. Dinner this time, like I promised. I let her pick the spot and met her there this time. The conversation was as easy as it was in the bar, much to my relief. Although perhaps it helped that we'd text a couple of times whilst I was on the road.

Mainly because instead of going to the bar the second I walked into a hotel, I was heading for my room and drawing out my phone and debating long and hard about whether to text or not. That was the first few nights anyway. And then I took the plunge, waited with baited breath for her response and felt my lips twitch into a smile when she did. I could almost feel her surprise through the phone. I wondered if mine was just as palpable.

Something about her makes me want to prove to myself that I can be something else. Despite all my bravado about enjoying the perks of my position, something started to eat away at me the second I left her apartment building. The fact that I made it back to mine without dropping the ball once... Well, even I didn't see that one coming. And on the road, the times I did venture to the bar, I brushed off the handful of attempts at attention, paused to flirt briefly and then for some unknown reason, thought the better of it.

Brown eyes, pink lips, blonde hair. That's all I could think about. It's like she's cast a fucking spell over me, forbidding me to think of anyone other than her.

The last time I had a goddamn crush was in high school and even then it was short-lived. A few days maybe, until I made out with said girl at some party and then she spewed over my jeans. I can't quite see that happening again this time around, but the fact that I feel like this makes me nervous all the same. And I don't think I've ever been so damn nervous around a woman before. To the point where I'm being careful not to over-sell the cockiness.

"Becca..." I test it out on my tongue. "I like it."

"Little less formal, dontcha think?" she grins as we turn the corner into her street.

Her pace slows and I slow with her. Out of the corner my eye, I see her lick her lips and my mind instantly goes into over-drive without warning. I'm not going to lie, I've been thinking about those lips for a while now. Ever since they brushed against my cheek. Ever since I watched them wrap around the opening of that beer bottle. And then tonight, watching her sip her wine, run her tongue over them, tug them between her teeth, press her finger tip to them. I don't think I've ever been quite so keen to test out the potential of one body part.

She looks as good as she did last time. Cropped pants rather than a dress. Flats rather than heels. A floaty camisole that still hides everything from view. Her short blonde hair is straight tonight, the tips whispering around her shoulders as she fumbles from her keys.

She pauses, climbing the first step and then looking back at me.

"I had a good time again."

"Same," I agree.

White teeth sneak out to grip her bottom lip. Keys jangle in the silence as she holds my gaze. "Do you want to come up?"

I blink. "Only if you're sure."

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't."

I follow her up the steps, up to the third floor, her hand grazing against mine until, just as we reach her door, I decide to finally wrap mine around hers. She looks up at me with a curious gaze and I vow that whatever happens, I am not going to sleep with her. Not tonight anyway.

But the second her lips touch mine, I realise that's a promise that's going to be hard to keep. It's brief, up against the closed door, her purse falling to the floor as she reaches to cup the back of my neck. And then she pulls away, her hand finding mine as she leads me further into her apartment. Her knees hit the edge of the couch and she's dragging me down on top of her, our mouths finding each other.

This time it's longer, hotter. Her mouth is insane, full of opposites – soft lips combined with extreme heat. Her tongue is fiery, yet lazy, controlling the speed at which I run mine against it. Her hands roam up and down my arms as I fight to keep my weight off her small frame. But as I go to rise ever so slightly, her arms wrap around my shoulders and she pulls me back, her legs slowly parting to let me settle between them.

Out of instinct, I grind down slowly and then freeze. I half expect her to pull back, to kick me out, to remind me like so many others have done before that she's not that kind of girl. But her right leg slowly curls around my left, her foot digging into the back of my knee, her own hips starting to move.

Fuck...

My hand finds it way into her hair, brushing it back from her face as I pull back for a quick breath and then capture her lips once again. Her hands slide down my back and I shiver at her touch and then groan softly into her mouth as one hand sneaks under my shirt, her fingers brushing over my bare skin as I start to grind against her.

My brain is screaming to stop. My cock, however, has very different ideas. But Becca's legs are widening still, her foot now on the back of my thigh as she grants me more access, her hips in time with mine as I drop from her mouth and attack her neck, the hand in her hair increasing its grip so I can angle her head just so and take my time with her throat. A little moan escapes her and when I flick my gaze back up, her eyes are closed, her mouth a pouty 'O' as I inch a little further south and nip at her collarbone.

"Dean..." her voice is breathless as I kiss my way back up to her mouth and swallow her accompanying whimper.

I should stop. I really need to stop.

But my hand is on her shoulder, fingers playing with the strap of her camisole, testing the waters as I slide it down to hang on her upper arm. And she doesn't stop me.

I shift slightly, my hand finding her stomach, clutching handfuls of material as I head higher, my fingers grazing the underside of her clothed breast. And she doesn't stop me.

My fingers slide over the rise, reaching the swell of her breast, feeling it fit perfectly in the centre of my palm. I trace the outline of her strapless bra, squeezing gently and feeling her body arch beneath me.

* * *

We did stop. Eventually. Although it took us a while to untangle ourselves, what with her leg around my waist, her hand under my shirt, on my stomach. My hand was well and truly wrapped around her hair, my other hand minutes away from tugging her shirt down. But we pulled away, my hips slowing to a stop as hers did the same. She brushed a hand through my hair, held my gaze as she told me that I needed to go.

But she wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I needed to get out of there before either one of us did something we regretted. And what a new sensation that was. I don't think I've ever really regretted anything in my life. Perhaps there have been occasions where things could have gone a little better, but I would never say I regretted a single second. Not until I met Rebecca and was watching my every move, careful not to do anything that would put any of this – whatever _this_ is – in jeopardy.

For once, it's not all about the fuck. And as much as images of her lying on the couch beneath me keep popping into my mind at all hours of the day, I almost want to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible. Because I am yet to drop the ball on this. Even when I was all fired up and horny as hell, I got back to my apartment and took the longest, coldest shower ever. But I couldn't shake her, still. Fist against the shower-wall, the other around my cock, I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of her mouth.

It's been a week this time. And this time, her hand slides into mine a few seconds after we meet, tugging me across the road whilst I stare mesmerised at her back. Today I'm being treated to a floor length dress, the back made up of thin straps that criss-cross over her fair skin from her shoulder blades, right down to the small of her back. In between the gaps, I can't spy a bra strap and the thought makes my mouth go dry.

"You okay back there?" she says over her shoulder.

"Sure, darlin'."

It slips out with ease, as if that's how I've always referred to her. Her hand squeezes mine before I let it go and slide my arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her against me.

We find a cafe for lunch, sitting outside under the large umbrellas. I tell her about my week and she tells me about hers. And then we walk some more, drink iced coffee as we head through a park and then out the other side. We talk about TV shows, music, films, books. She jokes about her lounge resembling a library. I decide not to comment that I wasn't quite paying attention last week. The place could have been a fucking bomb site and I wouldn't have noticed.

We kiss as we wait to cross a road, heading back to her block later in the afternoon. Her hand creeps up the back of my neck, holding me to her as she moulds her body against mine. My thumb catches every other strap on the back of her dress as I slide my hand down to the small of her back, my little finger grazing the slight swell of her ass.

Outside her apartment, we go through the niceties again. Only this time, there's a flicker of hesitation, a rumbling of doubt behind her eyes.

 _Don't ask_ , I beg.

 _Ask_ , I scream.

 _Make me prove how good I can be_ , I beg.

 _Let me show you how good I can be_ , I scream.

"You want to come up again?" She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, stood on the bottom step as usual, bringing herself almost level with me.

Her hand guides me up stairs, but by the time we reach her floor, we're bumping into the walls as I cover her mouth with mine. She turns at the door, fumbling to fit the keys in the lock, but that doesn't stop me. My hands are on her hips, my body pressed against hers as I find the back of her neck and attack it with the same passion as her mouth.

Kicking the door closed behind us, I turn her in my arms again and slam my mouth against her. Swallowing her moan, I push her backwards and we stumble blindly through her apartment, knocking agains the back of the couch for a moment and then a table. I almost trip on a rug outside her bedroom door as she tugs my shirt over my head, her nails digging into my chest as she explores my bare skin.

My knees hit the back of the bed as she pushes me towards it with a force that makes me raise an eyebrow. As she kicks off her sandals, I make hasty work of my boots before she presses a hand to my shoulder and pushes me back onto the bedsheets. I watch as her hands gather up the skirt of her dress as she kneels on the edge of the bed and slowly makes her way on top of me. She lowers herself on my crotch and I almost jump at the heat radiating between her thighs.

Pushing her hair back behind her ears, she leans down and kisses me again. But this time it's a slow, measured pace. Her hands run over my arms, down my chest as she explores my mouth and I let her. I let her take her time, because the second I flip her onto her back, all hell is going to break loose again.

But that doesn't stop my hands from coming to rest on her legs. And then when I realise I want to feel her bare skin, pushing away the pesky material and groaning into her mouth as my hands work their way up from her knees to her waist. I pluck at the waistband of her panties and she responds by pulling back, hands grabbing at the dress as she eases it higher. I help her push it over her head and then let my eyes roam over her naked body.

"God, you're beautiful," I hear myself murmur. But she is. She is stunning. Her hair is messy from our furious speed, but I find myself wanting to make it even messier. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from kissing, but I only want to make them even more so. Her breasts are small, but pert and I cup one in my hand, rolling the nipple between my fingers and watching her eyes flutter closed. She whimpers softly as I press my other hand to her back and ease her back to me, shifting her a little higher so I can replace my fingers with my mouth, swirling my tongue along the hard tip until she hisses.

"You like that?" I groan against her as I release my lips.

"Yes..."

"How about this?" I pinch it between my fingers, softly at first, but increasing the pressure until her hips buck and she curses.

"Shit, Dean..."

"I take that as a yes," I smirk, tweaking her other nipple in the same way, before taking it into my mouth.

Her hips roll against me and my cock silently pleads to be let loose. But it's like she's a goddamn mind reader as she pulls away from my mouth and lowers hers to my chest instead, nipping and sucking her way down to my stomach, her fingers on my belt, hooking around the waistband of my pants and boxers and pulling them way in one fluid motion.

Reaching for a pillow, I prop it behind my head, watching as her eyes focus on my cock. I groan loudly, much to her amusement, as her hand wraps around the length and she licks her lips.

"Becca," I hiss as her lips wrap around the tip. Her tongue laps eagerly at the slit, making me grunt as her hand works the rest, a firm fist working up and down.

"Mmm," is her only response as she pulls back, only to run her tongue along the underside a second later. My eyes threaten to roll back in my head as she takes me a little deeper into her mouth, but I force them open, chancing a look down to find her watching me.

Letting me go, she smirks and then takes me back in, again a little further, her tongue swirling over the tip every time she pulls back. Her wrist twists over the base expertly and I let go a curse of my own as it suddenly moves to my thigh and I'm completely engulfed by her mouth. The tip is pressed against the back of her throat and I'm almost a goner as she swallows.

"Fuck, Becca..."

My hand instinctively rises to grip the back of her head, but I don't need to apply any pressure, she eases back a second and then takes me fully again without prompting and I could almost cry at the sensation. Her mouth feels as hot as it does when I'm kissing her and the sight of those pink lips wrapped around my cock is fucking insane. Her nails scrape against my balls and I know I'm seconds away from blowing my load down her throat whether she likes it or not, because I won't be able to stop even if she wants me to.

"Bec..." I manage to get out, but then the heat dies away and I grunt in frustration.

She smirks up at me, her hand gripping my cock half-way up, halting my impending release.

"Fuck, darlin'," I groan as she kisses the tip once again.

"I'll carry on if you want me to," she offers, but I shake my head, reaching down to pull her up and then flipping her onto her back.

"No way, I've waited long enough for this," I practically growl into her neck as I reach down and cup her through her panties, groaning as I feel the damp patch with my fingers.

"There's condoms in the drawer," she points to the left, but I shake my head.

"Not yet, darlin'... I gotta have a taste first."

I dip my head to her breasts again, fingers in the waistband of her panties as my cock jerks against her thigh.

"Because," I continue. "I've been thinking about how sweet you're gonna taste. And how that voice of yours is gonna sound when you scream my name as I eat your hot, wet pussy."

One finger slips inside her as I reach her stomach. Glancing up, I notice how dark her eyes have become, how flushed her cheeks are already.

"Dean..."

"You're dripping, darlin'..."

"I... I know..."

I lift my now wet finger to my mouth and suck it dry, smirking as she whimpers. "Fuck, that's good..."

Sliding her panties down her legs, I slowly spread them, pressing my lips to her inner thigh. I push my finger back inside her, easing it in and out as I move my mouth closer and closer to my target. Spreading her wetness, I use the same finger to seek out her clit, starting gently as I cover her entrance with my mouth and kiss her slowly. She jerks against me, twisting her hips to angle me just how she needs me. I listen to her every move, respond to every one, making sure that I hit the spots she needs to get off. She sucks in a deep breath as I switch my tongue for my fingers again, letting the tip flick over her clit.

"Dean," she whimpers again. "There... Right there..."

I don't let up, my fingers, two now, sliding in and out of her, curling every so often to brush against her G-spot, making her curse loudly. I wrap my lips around her clit, trapping it so I can focus on just the tip with my tongue.

"FUCK!"

Her pussy clamps down on my fingers, her body slowly starting to twist away, but I refuse to let her, my arm pressed against her waist, holding her down on the bed as she lets out a gut-wrenching scream.

Her body is limp as I crawl back up. I brush the hair from her face, cup the back of her neck and bring her mouth to mine. She moans as she tastes herself.

Pulling away, I press my mouth to her ear. "You're gorgeous, darlin'."

She won't meet my eye as I pull back. Slipping a finger under her chin, I force her to and repeat my words.

"Gorgeous."

She shakes her head.

"Don't do that," I murmur, reaching out to the side to grab a condom. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"How beautiful you are."

"I'm beautiful?" her voice rising in question.

"Say it, don't ask it." I nudge her legs a little further apart.

"I'm beautiful," she gasps as I push into her.

"Damn right," I groan as her tightness consumes my cock. "Fuck, Becca..."

She hisses my name back at me, her legs wrapping around my waist as I start to thrust into her. I keep murmuring it into her neck, mixed in with a whole other cacophony of words that blur into groans and moans as I push her towards her release. Her nails rake down my back as I bite down on her neck and then suck until the skin turns red.

Her body arches and I wrap my arms under her, pulling her up right as I jerk back onto my knees. Gripping her shoulder with one hand, her ass with the other, I lift her up and down on my length, feeling her tighten around me.

"Becca, talk to me..."

"Ah, harder..."

I slam her down with more force and her head rocks back, exposing her neck to my mouth once again. The hand on her shoulder curls its way through her hair, holding her there as I continue to pump into her. Her body tenses, shudders violently.

"Dean!"

She collapses against me, her legs sliding from my waist as her release washes over her. Easing her back onto the bed, I pull out and flip her over, dragging my hands over her back.

"You okay, darlin'?" I murmur as I nudge her hips upwards.

"Fuck, yes." Her head twists to the side as she looks back at me through dark and hazy eyes.

"Good," I groan as I push into her, gripping her hips hard as I thrust deeply.

She whimpers and whines beneath me, all sounds coming from those lips of hers like music to my ears. Her hands stretch out, reaching for the headboard, wrapping around the thick slats as I pound into her willing body. One hand slips, squeezes her ass and I'm rewarded with a loud moan.

"Harder..."

I squeeze again and a wicked smile graces her face.

"Harder..."

I smirk as I give her ass cheek a tentative smack.

"Mmm... Dean... Harder..."

The second smack is louder, but her holler is even louder.

I'm close, the feeling of her pussy around me, her voice urging me on, my hand on her ass, smacking it loudly for a third time as I grip her opposite hip to keep up with my hard thrusts. Squeezing her ass briefly, I drop my hand and curl it around her waist, seeking out her clit. I want her to cum again, I want to feel her pussy grip my dick again and squeeze me until I cum as well.

"Dean, shit... I..."

"Becca, cum for me, I wanna feel you cum again."

My grunting is lost in her howl, her body falling forward as I slam into her one last time.

She sticks to me as I pull her against me. I press a chaste kiss to her forehead and then blink at my own actions. Although I'm not sure why I'm surprised. Everything that's happened in the last few weeks has been about firsts and surprises and unexpected words and actions.

"Fuck," she breathes against my shoulder.

"What?"

"Was that your A-game?"

I chuckle as I pull back slightly to look down at her. "Why?"

"Because if it wasn't, then I don't quite know how I'm going to survive when you give me your best."

"Give me a second and we can test that theory out," I smirk, already feeling my cock stir at the thought of pounding into her body again.

She settles back against me, but only for a second. "If this is it, then I'm happy with that."

I stare at her. Seriously? She's now offering me an out? Not that I want to take it, but Christ...

"Do you want this to be it?" I venture.

"Do you?"

I shake my head with a smile. "Not the way this works, answer the question."

She ducks her head down, until I cup her chin and bring her eyes up again. "I like hanging out with you. If this is an added benefit, then I'm up for that."

But there's a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes and I can feel her searching my face, looking for the same hope, the same feelings.

And for the first time in my life, I find myself saying I want that and more.

And for the first time in my life, it's actually the truth.

 **Fin x**


End file.
